


Dogcopter 4

by wordbending



Series: Her Universe [7]
Category: Steven Universe (Cartoon)
Genre: Canon Non-Binary Character, F/F, Gender Dysphoria, Trans Female Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 18:30:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13440711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordbending/pseuds/wordbending
Summary: Steven accidentally invites Connie on a date to see the new Dogcopter movie. But, as the special day approaches, Steven faces her most dreaded enemy yet... puberty.





	Dogcopter 4

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place after my fic [Her Universe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6489301), which means Steven is a trans girl in this fic. As usual, that means it takes place in the same AU as [nagginggargoyle’s](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagginggargoyle/pseuds/nagginggargoyle) excellent series [equilibrium](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5163491/).
> 
> Content warnings for mentions of mild body dysphoria that may be triggering to some.

* * *

 

Steven hums to herself as she examines herself in the mirror, combing and recombing her mane of dark brown ringlets. She has to look perfect!  _ Completely  _ perfect!

She briefly wonders if she should have put on some hair dye for this occasion. But she remembers the last time she’d tried that, with Amethyst, and she puts the thought aside with a grimace. Too late to worry about it now anyways.

She takes another look down at her outfit. Even though it was just a movie, she’d gone and had Bismuth sew her something really nice just for this occasion - she wanted to leave a good impression, after all! It was a long black backless dress, stretching past her ankles and down to the floor, sparkling with hundreds of tiny fake gemstones. There was a hole in the stomach for her gem. She’d also put on some bracelets - pink, white, and blue - as well as handmade black high heels, all made by Bismuth too.

She loved it. She feels like a princess.

She’d done a good job on her makeup too. She’d gone with something subtle, to really set off her outfit - just simple eyelash extensions, eyeliner, some pink blush on her cheeks, and concealer to hide her pimples. She admired it again, making sure her lashes were on properly and that her blush wasn’t running.

That’s when she sees it.

On her chin is a single, black hair. Sticking straight out maybe a half-inch from her face.

Oh no, Steven thinks.  _ Oh no. _

She looks towards the door, as if expecting Connie to be there. When she sees there’s nobody there, she scoots closer to the mirror, gingerly reaching up and touching her chin. She feels the hair, scratchy against her fingertips, like sandpaper.

Steven groans, laying her forehead against the mirror. She slumps down against it with a  _ squeak.  _

Her outfit is ruined. Her  _ date  _ is ruined. _ She’s _ ruined! 

She can already see it - Connie, her best, closest friend, seeing the hair growing on her chin and laughing at her! Connie, saying “So much for the prettiest girl in Beach City! I could never date someone as  _ ugly  _ as  _ you!” _

OK, so Connie would never say something like that. That wasn’t the point! The point was, there was no way she could go on a date like this!

And… almost worse than that… this meant she was getting  _ older.  _ Soon, things would just get worse! One hair would become hundreds! Thousands! And they’d start growing  _ everywhere!  _ And her voice… she reaches for her throat… her voice would change! She’d start sounding like… like her dad!

And then… and then…

She hears a sound, very close by. It’s a kind of  _ shinnnnng  _ sound, the familiar sound of shapeshifting. She looks up with a start, into the mirror, half-expecting to see the single strand of chin hair has turned into a tiny, mewling cat.

Instead, what she sees is arguably worse. The single strand of chin hair has become an entire beard, all around her lips and across her chin.

She screams, running right out of the bathroom, nearly tripping over her heels. She runs into the living room, hoping to see one of the Gems there, hoping there’ll be someone who can give her some advice on how to get rid of this  _ right now. _

But there’s nobody there. The whole house is empty. And she remembers why - she remembers Pearl, humming excitedly about “our little Steven’s first date,” promising to give Connie and her “some privacy.” Which meant, in this case, that all three of them had left on a mission ten minutes ago, and Steven had no idea where they were.

Steven buries her face in her hands, feeling her beard - her  _ beard! - _ beneath her fingers.  __ As if it wasn’t bad enough to look at, it’s even worse to touch. It’s so  _ itchy. _

Her thoughts are interrupted by a _ding-dong_ as the doorbell rings. She lowers her hands and, with a growing sense of dread, looks up towards the door to see who it is.

Of course, it’s not Jamie, the mailman. Not at this time of night. It could only be one person.

Steven stares across the room at Connie, standing behind the screen door, shyly rubbing her arm. She can see Connie’s dressed up just as nicely as she is - she’s wearing a black tailored suit, with Rose’s bright pink sword on her back. It just makes Steven feel  _ worse. _ She can already tell that Connie looks so nice, while she looks so… so…

She sees her purse laying on the counter and gets an idea. Walking over to it, she fishes her phone out of it and makes a call.

* * *

Connie is  _ so  _ not prepared for this. She’s going on a date! She’s never been on a date in her life! She’s never even kissed anyone!

But it’s not just that. She’s going on a date  _ with Steven Universe _ ! The best friend she’s ever had! She’s so sure that something’s going to go wrong... and that, of course, it’ll be all her fault.

But she steels herself, taking a deep breath. She’s been preparing for this for a month. She even brought Steven’s mom’s sword with her, just in case they get attacked by any gem monsters or Homeworld gems while they’re out. It’s going to be fine!

She reaches out and rings the doorbell, waiting patiently. She’s sure Steven is taking her time getting ready, so she isn’t surprised when there isn’t an immediate reply.

But a minute goes by and there’s still no response, not even a “just a sec!” from Steven. Maybe she hadn’t heard her? Or, knowing Steven, maybe Steven’s just as shy about this as she is. She can imagine Steven nervously pacing back and forth in her bathroom, or hiding in her bed under her blankets, her face beet red. 

She reaches up to ring the doorbell again when her phone rings. She takes it out of her pocket and flips it open - the screen says “STEVEN” on it. She presses the call button and puts it up to her ear.

“Steven? Is something…”

She’s answered by violent coughing. 

“Ohhhhhh,” says Steven’s voice. It sounds… odd. It sounds suspiciously like someone trying to sound hoarse. “Connnnnie…”

“Um.”

“I caaaaaan’t make it,” slurs Steven with an exaggerated sniffle. “I’m soooo sorry! I must have…”

There’s another series of violent coughs.

“Cauuuught something. We’ll just have to see the movie… tomorrow...”

Strangely, Connie also notices that she hears Steven’s voice twice - once through the phone, and once coming from not too far away, inside the house. She looks up through the screen door and sees Steven standing in the kitchen, wearing a black dress. She’s cupping one hand over her mouth as she speaks into her phone, held in her other hand.

Connie almost starts to laugh. What is she  _ doing? _

“Um, Steven,” Connie manages to say.

“Yesssss, Connie?”

“I can see you. I’m right here.”

For emphasis, she knocks on the glass door. With a start, Steven looks over at her. Steven’s face blanches… and then she turns and runs, dropping her phone to the ground.

“Steven!” shouts Connie. She can’t stand around waiting now - she opens the door herself and sees Steven in the living room, standing by the couch. For some reason, she’s picked up one of the white throw pillows and is hiding her head behind it. The pillow is haloed by Steven’s mane of ringlets.

“Don’t look at me!” says Steven, her voice muffled.

“Steven,” Connie repeats, baffled. “What on Earth…?”

She walks over to Steven, closing the distance between them, and puts her hands on Steven’s shoulders… but Steven continues holding the pillow up in front of her face.

“Is it acne?” Connie guesses. “You know I don’t care about that…”

Without moving the pillow, Steven shakes her head.

“Bad hair day?”

Again, Steven shakes her head. Connie’s already running out of guesses. She doubts Steven has got some kind of gnarly scar. Maybe it’s some kind of weird gem thing.

“Well, what happened? You know you can tell me, Steven…”

“You promise… you won’t laugh?”

Connie feels mildly offended.

“Of course I won’t! Steven, I’d never laugh at you.”

“OK… but, remember, you  _ promised. _ ”

Gently, Steven begins to lower the pillow. Connie takes her hands and, slowly, helps her to lower it away from her face. At first, Steven’s face looks normal. It even looks pretty, with her fake eyelashes, her eyeliner, her blush. Steven’s always been good at makeup.

But then, with a sigh, Steven lowers the pillow completely, and Connie immediately sees what she’s been upset about. On her chin, around her lips, is a sea of dark brown stubble. She can’t even see Steven’s chin past all of it.

It looks, if Connie is being honest, a little goofy, especially next to Steven’s makeup. She barely holds back a laugh, biting her lip, and Steven looks at her despondently.

“You said… you said you wouldn’t laugh,” says Steven miserably. Connie sees her eyes getting wet, tears forming in the corners.

And Connie realizes something. This is a  _ big deal  _ to Steven. It’s not just about some having some silly facial hair on your first date. It’s about what that silly facial hair represents to a young woman just experiencing puberty… especially a young trans woman. No wonder Steven is so devastated!

“Oh my gosh, Steven, I’m so sorry,” Connie says quickly, wrapping her friend in a hug. Steven sniffles, for real this time, as Connie puts her arms around Steven’s shoulder and pats her back. “I shouldn’t have laughed.”

“It’s so gross,” Steven murmurs. “And  _ itchy.” _

“I know,” Connie says. “I  _ hate  _ having to shave.”

“You… you shave?”

Connie nods. “Of course! Lots of girls shave. But, um, lots of girls don’t too, you know?”

“Huh?”

Connie realizes she’s just making things more confusing. She breaks the hug and looks up at Steven’s face, slightly wet with tears.

“Steven, I’m trying to say I don’t care if you have a beard. It doesn’t make you less of a girl… and it doesn’t make you less beautiful, or make me want to date you less. OK?”

To underline the point, she places her hand on Steven’s blushing cheek, her fingers sliding against Steven’s facial hair.

Steven, though, doesn’t look sure, which maybe isn’t a surprise. After all, Connie had just laughed at her, so how believable did her little pep talk sound? When Steven glances away from Connie, frowning, Connie feels like all she’s done is betray her best friend’s trust.

“But  _ I  _ don’t want it.”

“That’s fine too!” Connie says quickly. “We’ve got plenty of time until the movie starts. I’ll wait for you to shave it off, OK?”

Steven’s frown deepens. Her red face grows even redder.

“I…” she says, her voice quiet. “I don’t… know how.”

Connie blinks. She’d always imagined that Steven’s dad would have taught Steven how to shave - wasn’t teaching your kid to shave a fatherly tradition or something? But she realizes that Steven has probably never  _ needed  _ to shave before, even though she is fourteen. The perils of having a delayed puberty.

“Oh,” says Connie. “Well, it’s not too hard… tell you what. Why don’t I teach you?”

Connie tries to smile reassuringly at Steven, who glances up at her, still frowning.

“You’d…” she says. “You’d do that?”

“Of course I will. Is there a razor we can borrow?” Connie asks, but she realizes it’s a silly question as soon as she’s asked it. Sure enough, Steven shakes her head again.

“The gems don’t shave,” Steven explains.

“Oh. Right.” Connie crosses her arms. “Then... I guess we’ll just have to go to the store and pick one up.”

Steven’s eyes widen. “W-we?!”

Connie looks at Steven, who is still blushing. She looks up and down at Steven’s makeup, at her dress… and at her beard. She gets it - she’d be a bit nervous going out in public looking like that too.

But Steven needs to go. She’s never bought a razor or any supplies before, yes, but she’s also never been in public with embarrassing facial hair before. What is she going to do the next time this happens and Connie  _ isn’t _ there? Connie doesn’t want to imagine it.

“Yeah,” says Connie. She reaches for Steven’s hands, still holding the throw pillow. “ _ We. _ Do you trust me?”

Steven sighs, lowering her head. Connie lowers hers too, pressing her forehead against Steven’s.

“Yeah,” Steven says. “I trust you.”

With those words, a pink light fills the room, starting from Steven’s gem and spreading outwards. Soon, the light surrounds the two of them completely… and Steven and Connie are replaced by one tall, gangly teenage being.

The first thing Stevonnie does is reach up and feel their beard.

“You were right,” they say. “This  _ does  _ feel gross!”

But then, with a laugh, they look down at themself. Connie’s tuxedo and Steven’s dress have fused together to form a combination of both - a black suit top and black tie over a floor-length black skirt, all sparkling with gemstones.

“We look amazing!” they say, twisting around to look down at the back of their outfit. “Wow!”

But, for a second, the grin on their face falters.

“Even with… this?” they ask themself, reaching for their beard again.

“ _ Especially  _ with this,” they reply, nodding assuredly. “But let’s go get that razor.”

* * *

By the time Stevonnie has walked all the way to Beach City, barefoot, they’re not sure what has made people stare at them more - the sparkling black tuxedo-dress, the pink sword on their back, or the beard on their chin. There’s a lot to stare at, and while they wouldn’t normally mind all the attention, today there’s a part of them that definitely does.

The more they walk, the more they feel people’s eyes on them, and the less they feel… together. They can feel their fusion separating, diverging, as one part of them struggles to even take a step forward.

But they hug themselves and reassure themself that it’s alright. That, no matter who stares at them, they’re  _ Stevonnie.  _ They’re  _ them.  _ They’ll go into this store with a spring in their step and a grin on their face and no amount of stares will pull them apart.

They nod, reassured, and walk into the local pharmacy, the sliding door making a  _ ding  _ as they enter. Tinny pop music plays over the speakers.

“Welcome to Smallgreen’s!” says a cashier, a little too cheerfully, and Stevonnie gulps. If they weren’t feeling everyone’s stares before, they definitely are now. They look between the customers - a gruff-looking father with three young kids in tow, a middle-aged woman in a hijab, two teenage girls in school uniforms. All of them are staring at Stevonnie.

Then they all look away, turning back to what they were doing, and Stevonnie breathes a sigh of relief.

“Um, excuse me,” says the cashier, still a little too cheerfully, and Stevonnie turns towards him, afraid they’ve done something wrong. ”You’ll have to, uh, put that weapon away.”

Stevonnie looks over their shoulder at Rose’s sword. The cashier nervously motions his head toward a sign, which says “NO SHIRT, NO SHOES, NO SERVICE.” Stevonnie looks down at their bare feet, but underneath “NO SHOES,” someone has written in scratchy handwriting “NO SWORDS.” Stevonnie thinks it’s a little confusing - doesn’t that mean you  _ need  _ a sword for service?

But they comply, going over to the counter and taking the sword off their back. They place it on the counter with a metallic clang - it’s so large that it takes up all the space on the counter, and it’s so bright it makes the counter shine pink. The cashier looks unsure what to do with it.

“It’s OK,” Stevonnie reassures him. “It’s a magic sword. It only cuts gems. Well, not the  _ gems _ , the light holograms. It destabilizes them.”

The cashier nods slowly.

“Um, do you know where I can find the… uh… the razors?” Stevonnie asks. 

Without saying anything, the cashier lifts a finger and points towards one of the aisles. 

“Thanks!” Stevonnie calls out to him as they walk towards the aisle, Shaving & Grooming. Fortunately, they’re alone - nobody else is there.

“See, I told you it’d be fine,” they say to themself.

“Yeah, you’re right,” they reply.

They go down the product line, walking past aftershave gel and waxing products towards the razors and the shaving cream. They find two sets of boxes, next to each other - one a soft white, one a dark black. The boxes say “APHRODITE” and “ARES.” They both contain the same things: two razors and a canister of shaving cream.

But they suddenly feel unsure of themselves.

Gently, they pick up the Aphrodite box. That seems the most sensible - they  _ are,  _ in a sense, two women, whatever the gender of their combined selves might be. Stevonnie is an experience, after all. They are their own gem.

“Nah,” says a voice. “Don’t get that one.”

Stevonnie looks up with a start towards the source of the voice, nearly dropping the box. Next to them, without them even having noticed, is a young man with spiky brown hair, a red jacket, and huge sunglasses. Huge sunglasses he’s wearing in the middle of a store, in the middle of the night.

_ Buck Dewey. _

Stevonnie doesn’t know whether to be relieved or to panic.

Buck picks up the Ares box.

“It’s cheaper,” he says, pointing to the price tags - the white box is $29.99. The black box Buck is holding is $24.99. “Down with capitalism.”

“Oh, uh, yeah,” Stevonnie says, putting the box they’re holding back. They pick up one of the  Ares boxes. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” says Buck, before he lowers his glasses and gives them a small, sly grin. “I like your beard.”

Stevonnie reaches up and touches it. “You… you do?”

“Yeah. It’s cool. Makes me want one.”

Stevonnie feels their cheeks getting warm, in spite of themself.

“T… thanks.”

“Anyway,” Buck says, putting his glasses back up. He starts to walk out of the aisle, one arm carrying the box he picked up, the other hand waving over his shoulder. “Later, Stevonnie.”

Stevonnie waves back at him awkwardly.

_ What just happened? _

* * *

Stevonnie finds themself at the movie theater. They didn’t buy the razors or the shaving cream at all.

It’s not like they really care  _ that  _ much about what Buck thinks. But, he is one of the Cool Kids, and if  _ he  _ thinks their beard is cool… doesn’t that mean it is?

And, if their beard is cool… then it seems like a shame to shave it off. At least, not right now. They can shave it later.

The girl manning the ticket counter doesn’t even comment on their beard, and neither does the older man checking their tickets - although they’re both a little confused as to why they got  _ two  _ tickets for  _ one  _ person. But all they have to do is explain that their date cancelled on them last minute. It’s technically not a complete lie - Steven  _ did  _ almost cancel on Connie, after all.

They purchase some overly expensive popcorn and a drink, get into the theater just in time for the commercials to end and the movie to start, and take their seat.

And, by the time they’re scarfing down popcorn, sitting on the edge of their seat, and maybe crying a little at Dogcopter’s “death scene”, they’ve forgotten all about their beard.

* * *

Stevonnie leans in front of the mirror, their chin and upper lip covered in shaving cream. Their hand trembles as they hold one of the cheap black razors up to their face.

They cringe, shutting their eyes.

“Relax,” they say to themself, opening their eyes again. “It’s not going to hurt you.”

“But what if we cut ourselves!”

“We won’t! Promise.”

They take a deep breath and, cocking their head towards the mirror, gently press the razor down against their upper lip. Slowly, they slide the razor downwards. They can feel their beard hair move as the razor blade slides across it - it feels  _ weird.  _ Flakes of hair fall into the sink.

“See?” they say, leaning closer to the mirror and admiring the patch of bare skin on their upper lip. “That wasn’t so bad.”

* * *

Five minutes later, when all of their beard has been cut away, a bright white light surrounds Stevonnie’s body… and then two smaller teenagers pop out of it, standing where they had just been.

Steven immediately goes to look in the mirror.

“It’s gone!” she chirps happily. “It worked! I can’t see anything!”

_ "That’s  _ a relief,” Connie sighs, standing over her shoulder. “Feel better?”

Steven grins at Connie’s reflection. “Yeah! Thanks, Connie.”

“But, you know,” Connie says, leaning her head on Steven’s shoulder. “I kind of miss it.”

“You… you do?”

“Yeah.” Connie glances shyly up at Steven. “Is that strange?”

“No, of course not!” A pause. “Wait. Do you mean on me or...?”

Connie seems to consider this, pursing her lips. “I’m not sure.” Then she reaches up and touches Steven’s cheek, turning Steven’s head towards her. Steven’s face turns bright red. “A bit of both?”

Steven doesn’t know what to say. Connie strokes her cheek and she stands there, gaping like a fish.

Slowly, Connie leans forward, and Steven leans forward too, until their faces are inches apart. Steven’s ringlets hang over Connie’s shoulders like curtains.

Connie breaks into giggles, playfully pushing Steven away, separating them. It’s only the darker shade of brown on her cheeks that gives away what she’s feeling.

“You looked cute with a beard, Steven,” she says, smiling up at her. “Maybe you should keep it next time.”

Steven nods dumbly. 

“Anyway, I’ve got to get home. My mom will kill me if I’m up any later.”

Connie starts to walk away, out of the bathroom.

“Wait!” Steven shouts, and Connie stops and turns back around, clearly startled. Steven anxiously presses the tips of her index fingers against each other. Connie thinks she looks, as always, like a big kid. “Let me walk you to the bus? That’s… what you’re supposed to do on dates, right?”

Connie smiles shyly. “Yeah. That sounds nice.”

* * *

Steven throws her free hand in the air, the other tightly gripping one of Connie’s. “And then Dogcopter was like ‘boom, boom, boom, pewwwww!’ And he said -”

“'Guess you can teach an old dog… new tricks!'” Connie recites in a deep, dramatic voice, laughing. “That was my favorite scene in the book too!”

The two of them stop walking as they finally arrive at the bus stop. The bus hasn’t arrived yet, and there’s nobody else waiting for it, so it’s just the two of them.

“Thanks for walking me all this way, Steven,” says Connie, smiling.

Steven scratches the back of her head, grinning. “No problem!”

“And…” Connie looks down towards the ground, shuffling her feet. “I really enjoyed our date. Thank you.”

“I had fun too!”

For a minute, neither of them say anything else. They just stand there in front of each other, feeling awkward. The bus pulls into the station, but Connie doesn’t get on it.

“You know…” Connie says, not raising her head but looking up at Steven. “There’s one other thing people do at the end of dates.”

Steven swallows. Her throat suddenly feels dry. “W-what’s that?”

Connie closes the distance between them and kisses her on her now beardless cheek.

“That.”

Steven’s already very red face turns the same color as one of her shirts. She immediately buries her cheeks in her hands - her smile is so wide it barely looks as if her face can contain it.

With that, Connie enters the bus, and the door closes behind her. She waves out one of the windows at Steven, and Steven collects herself enough to frantically wave back.

At the exact same time, the moment the two of them are apart, Steven lets out a big whoop, falling backwards onto the sand, and Connie buries her face in her hands, barely able to contain her smile either.

* * *

The next time Steven has a beard, it’s when she’s a part of Stevonnie and trapped in a jungle somewhere deep in space - far, far away from any convenience stores.

Sitting cross-legged and looking at their reflection in the glass shards of a broken machine, Stevonnie raises their sword to their growing stubble...

And then they put the sword down, admiring their reflection, without shaving so much as a single hair.

“Nah,” they say, giving themself a wink and a thumbs up. “I already look good!”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my friends Ivy and Skirmisher for helping me with this fic!


End file.
